This Is How You Make Me Feel
by Rubyyy
Summary: When distance takes a toll on a relationship, is there any way to bridge it?
1. This Is How I Will Forget You

An angsty story from way back when, my very first multi-chapter fic!

**Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

...

**1. This Is How I Will Forget You**

I'm on the bus, and I'm tired.

Not just from work or school or life in general, but this… this distance that comes between us. It's already bad enough that we are so physically far apart, but do we have to be silent too? It's been too long since I'd last heard from you. Days, I could understand. Months, I might forgive. But years? Sure, I could make the first move to find out how you are, but I don't want to be the one always doing the work.

I'm on the way home, but I just want to get out of here. This is a route so familiar, so routine, yet suddenly it's become marked with so much sensitivity. Or maybe it's just me.

(Round the bend and down the street.)

As the bus trudges down the road, I know what's coming up. Maybe I should look upon that place in fondness, recalling the day I was found crying over the sourest of spilt milk (and the unworthiest of men). I may not have known it then, but as much as I was hurting, my heart had begun to heal too. Because you were with me.

But today, my heart is heavy. It seems to ache even more than usual. You are too far away and the distance has been killing me a little bit more each day. And things add up, you know. Every little thing I encounter that reminds me of you tears me apart that much more.

(We are getting closer.)

I stare straight ahead, my body stripped of emotions and strength. I'm tired, Yi Jeong. I wish it didn't have to come to this. THIS, whatever I'm doing to try to wean off you. It's not the best of ways, but I suppose it's a start.

And then, without as much as a glance, I close my eyes. I hold my breath. The bus sputters, but perseveres on. My heartbeat accelerates; I know we're here. This is the place I can't bear to look at. I could almost feel you in front of me again, your cockiness fading with each of my sobs. You were there to dry my tears. You aren't now. _But I wish you were._

My eyes are closed and my face is wet; but with each tear, I have decided:

_This is how I will forget you._


	2. This Is How I Remember You

**2. This Is How I Remember You**

_Tears. I remember the day I found you walking alone in the city. You were in a deep trance, and melancholy had absorbed your usual spunk. You had walked a distance before you slid down onto the steps, visibly defeated. I didn't know then why you seemed so destroyed, but I knew I didn't want to see you like this. I wanted to see you-_

_Smile. How your face radiates when you do, and how you light up a room just by doing so. On nights when I feel coldest, and most alone, I would picture your beautiful smile and it would warm my heart. I see it best when I close my-_

_Eyes. All my life, I'd looked into countless: lifeless, longing; bitter, emotionless; hungry, lustful. I suppose mine are no better. But I longed for something real. Where was the vivacity, the purity, the strength? And then, I found your eyes: doe-like and wide and surprised; filled with sadness, filled with fear, filled with wonder; curving at the ends, smiling as your mouth does. I've always heard how the eyes are the windows to one's soul, and I never knew what it meant till I looked into yours. How beautiful your soul is. This, I say in all-_

_Honesty. It started with you. You still believed in me somehow, even at my worst. You pushed me to face the deepest, darkest side of myself. How strong you are, my dear. How pure is your honesty. It was always your best-_

_Colour. Every spectrum of the rainbow, I think you have worn and adorn. I could never imagine you without any, because you are mine. Yes, cue the clichés, but my world is so much better with you in it. You've done too much for me. Could I ever-_

_Forget? I could never forget you, Ga Eul-yang. I never once have, or will. This is how I want to remember you, always: wide-eyed and wonderful, the sun in your smile, my strength forever._

After re-reading it for the umpteenth time, I gingerly folded the piece of paper and slid it back into its already-addressed and stamped envelope – this time, courageously sealing it once and for all. There was no turning back.

As I stood in front of the postbox, letter trembling in hand, a wave of insecurity swept over me. Would this make up for years of silence? Is it too late? How would she feel? Why did I do this only now? I don't know why myself. I know, however, that we all have to start somewhere again, even if we had already done so before. And this, is where I restart.

I closed my eyes and let my words slip from my grasp, away from me. There is a small _thunk_, and I stop holding my breath. I am now one step closer to reaching her, again.


	3. This Is How I Resent You

**3. This Is How I Resent You**

Is this supposed to make up for all the time you've never spoken to me? This… piece of paper, filled with your saccharine prose and honeyed words?

It's only been about fifteen minutes since I'd read the letter postmarked from Sweden, but already it feels like a distant memory, the way you are. As I hold the cream-coloured paper in my shaking hands, the unassuming envelope takes the opportunity to escape my grasp, gliding gracefully to the floor and under my bed. I make no move to retrieve it. My feet remain rooted to my bedroom floor.

This just… doesn't feel real.

I'm surprised at my own reaction. Shouldn't I be touched? I am supposed to be an unabashed romantic, after all. My heart should be overflowing with emotions, I should be moved to tears, and I should be falling head over heels in love with you again. But all I feel like doing at this present moment is ripping your words into unrecognizable shreds.

(Breathe, Ga Eul. Breathe)

Am I supposed to forgive you? Just because you took the time out of your busy schedule to praise my beauty and my honesty to the skies? Do you even mean everything – anything – that you said? I would like to believe you, but I don't. I was never like this. I was never such a cynic, but since you left me hanging on without much to hold on to, I've become your biggest.

_I've always heard how the eyes are the windows to one's soul, and I never knew what it meant till I looked into yours. How beautiful your soul is._

And what would you see if you saw me now? Resentment? Disappointment? Defeat? You can't possibly think I'm still the same girl that you used to know. Things have changed; YOU – the lack of, even – have changed me, but sadly, it's not for the better.

_How strong you are, my dear._

I will myself to read the letter again, this time with a slightly softer heart, and my vision begins to blur. (I knew this would happen.) A bold tear trickles down my cheek, and I wipe it away forcefully. Why did you take so long to tell me how you feel? I wish you hadn't left me hanging for _so long_. Please, Yi Jeong. Stop breaking my heart.

I wish I could stop loving you.

After eons of standing around, I figured it was only polite of me to respond to his letter. And so, I sit down at my study desk, and without even thinking, I begin to write. I hope he's prepared to hear what I have to say. It's been a long time coming.

_How pure is your honesty._


	4. This Is How You Destroy Me

**4. This Is How You Destroy Me**

_So Yi Jeong,_

_Your letter is a few years too late. If you thought you could sweeten your words to move my heart after maintaining years of silence between us, you have sorely underestimated me. I have mastered the art of hardening this heart of mine, and it's all thanks to you._

_Time is the essence in all that we do, and all that we are. It makes us, and it breaks us. You might have thought that this silence has broken me, but it hasn't. I find it sad that you'd think that I would still run back to you after all this time. It shows that you are stuck in the past, while I, have started to move forward._

_I wish you the best in your life ahead._

_Chu Ga Eul._

.

My heart is now a mere weight in my body that has become too heavy for me to bear.

Reading Ga Eul's reply was more than I could take. What made it worse was that she had written at the back of my letter to her, and sent it back to me. That wasn't just a stab to my heart; it was a plunge through it. Each of her words pierces me like a dart, and my open wounds are countless, endless.

I cannot accept this. This is not who she is, I cannot accept… her, being this way. I have to face this head on.

I grab my cell phone and start dialing her number from memory. I'm not sure I'd know what to say when she picks up, but this is what I need to do. I have to know why. As I hold the phone close to my ear, my heart is thumping so hard; it feels like it's throwing itself against my ribcage with every ring.

There's no response. It takes another two calls before the call is finally answered. Silence greets me instead. I do away with the formalities, and cut to the chase.

"How could you say all that to me?"

There is still silence on the other end, but I know she's there. I know she's listening, and she knows why I'm calling. I press on, trying to keep my voice from shaking more than it already is.

"Did you mean every single word, Ga Eul? Do you resent me that much? Is this really how you feel? Is this really what you think of me? Do you really think that I'm out to break your heart?"

It is then that she finally speaks, her reply curt and immediate. "No. I just want to break yours."

Her answer stuns me. This isn't the Ga Eul-yang I know. I try to hold back my astonishment, but it comes out as a quiver. "Wh-why would you want to break mine?"

"Just so you know how it feels like to be on the receiving end. Casanovas never get to experience what their conquests do."

"You are NOT a fucking conquest, Ga Eul-yang!" I spit out angrily, provoked by the audacity of her words. "Why the hell would you think that? Haven't I already told you what you mean to me? What will it take for you to believe me?"

I hear her suck in a sharp breath of air over the other line. Maybe I've finally pushed her into a corner. Her voice suddenly loses its curt tone, and her emotions begin to give way. "I-I will believe you when… when you actually start to mean what you say."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. So, this is how well she knows me, and apparently, vice versa. And all this time, I thought we were on the same page. It suddenly dawns on me that the Ga Eul I've kept so preciously in my heart all these years could just have been nothing more than a mirage, conjured up by my lonely self.

Our silence is interrupted by a bitter laugh emerging from my throat. If this is what being soulmates is supposed to be like, then I'd rather go back to not believing in it.

I've had enough. For once, I don't deserve this.

"Well," I said in my harshest, most sarcastic voice, "Congratulations, Chu Ga Eul. Whatever you're trying to do to me, whatever point you're trying to get across, you've won! You've done it! I hope you're happy now. Because if you've been bitter about how silent we have been, then guess what? You are going to become a bitter old woman because thanks to you, there will be an eternity of silence between us. You will never hear from me again. And I mean it." With that, I hurl my phone against the wall with all my might. It breaks into pieces on impact.

And so does my heart.


	5. This Is How You Need To Fight

**5. This Is How You Need To Fight**

* As I was thinking about how to continue this next part, I realized that one thing I didn't highlight fully in the last chapter was the time difference between the two. Remember, they are not in the same country; Ga Eul's in Seoul and Yi Jeong's in Sweden. There is an 8-hour time difference.

So with that in mind, this is **Ga Eul's POV** of the phone call between her and Yi Jeong, in her timezone. Her cell ringtone is 8eight's 심장이 없어 (Without A Heart).

.

_If I say that I'm in pain, I'm scared that I'll really be in pain_

_If I say that I'm sad, I'm scared that I will shed my tears_

_Why don't I just laugh, just laugh, just laugh..._

_But people ask me why I'm crying..._

It takes me a while to realize that I'm really hearing my cell phone ringtone at… 2.35am? I groggily reach for my phone on my nightstand and stash it under some cushions sharing my bed. I refuse to entertain any calls at this unearthly hour.

_I'm without a heart, I don't have a heart_

_Again today, I can see through your lies_

What the hell? Has this person no decorum when it comes to making phone calls? They obviously haven't got anything better to do, damn prank caller. I refuse to open my eyes. I bury the phone deeper into the plushy mound of cushions and soft toys, trying to ignore its vibrations, and sad song on replay, hoping this person won't call back again.

_My heart is in so much pain, I'm begging for your help_

_How can I smile in times like this?_

But the phone rings for the third time. Man, this person is relentless. I groan and reach for the phone, attempting to find the 'reject' button with my eyes closed, but I find myself accepting the call by accident. Crap. I put the phone to my ear and I say nothing. Maybe they might not even think I'm there. I expect to hear a dialtone, or in a worst-case scenario, something weird (like heavy breathing) on the other end, but instead, all I hear is the result of my actions catching up with me. Not that I know it immediately.

"How could you say all that to me?"

My eyes struggle to open upon hearing that all too familiar voice. My brain kicks into sudden overdrive, and my entire body experiences a premature rush of adrenaline even before it's fully awake. My reflexes are still slow, however, and it takes me a while for me to really connect what was going on, and who I'm talking to.

"Did you mean every single word, Ga Eul?" Yi Jeong continues, his voice desperate and shaking over the miles. He shoots questions after questions, after questions, each shot furious and unyielding.

"Do you resent me that much? Is this really how you feel? Is this really what you think of me? Do you really think that I'm out to break your heart?"

It's too much for me to be on the firing squad at this hour. My brain searches for the words to say, but my subconscious has the upper hand, and it quickly gains control of my tongue.

"No. I just want to break yours." The words are out of my mouth even before I could hold them back.

He kept quiet for a while, before I heard his quivering voice again. "Wh-why would you want to break mine?"

My heart was pounding. _You're still angry at him, Ga Eul. He's left you alone for so long, he's kept you waiting, without a word. Don't you forget that._ "Just so you know how it feels like to be on the receiving end. Casanovas never get to experience what their conquests do."

"You are NOT a fucking conquest, Ga Eul-yang! Why the hell would you think that? Haven't I already told you what you mean to me? What will it take for you to believe me?"

My body jolts suddenly at this sound of fury. I _am_ awake. It's hard not to be when you hear a voice like that, enraged. A deep breath of air enters my lungs and I pull myself upright. I've heard him emotional before, but I've never heard him this angry. It actually scared me. As much as I knew this was real, it wasn't enough. He wasn't fighting hard enough. I need him to fight for me. To prove how much more I mean to him. That all I'd been hoping for, waiting for, hasn't been a lie.

"I-I will believe you when… when you actually start to mean what you say."

Silence again. Holding my breath, I will myself not to cry. My free hand reaches to clutch a cushion. This is agony for me. As much as I still resent what he's done (or hasn't), what I resent more was the fact that I will never _not_ feel anything for him.

A bitter laugh seeps through the phone. "Well," says a callous voice I don't recognize, "Congratulations, Chu Ga Eul. Whatever you're trying to do to me, whatever point you're trying to get across, you've won! You've done it! I hope you're happy now. Because if you've been bitter about how silent we have been, then guess what? You are going to become a bitter old woman because thanks to you, there will be an eternity of silence between us. You will never hear from me again. And I mean it."

The call ends abruptly. The dialtone blares in my ear long after he hangs up, but I continue holding on to the phone.

What have I done?


	6. This Is How We Suffer The Consequences

**6. This Is How We Suffer The Consequences **

It's been a few hours since that disastrous phone call.

Night falls on my end of the world, and I am still lying slumped against the wall of my apartment. My breathing is laboured, and I make no effort to move. I am well and truly spent.

My phone, an innocent victim in my moment of blind fury, lies broken in the same spot it had shattered.

Her words ring at the back of my head. _I just want to break yours. Just so you know what it's like to be on the receiving end. I-I will believe you when… when you actually start to mean what you say._

There was something about that last line that was pleading. Was she? Or am I just trying to disillusion myself further?

A cynical snicker stirs from within me, and I find myself laughing for no reason at all. Every breath I inhale, stings and pierces my lungs; every breath I exhale, hurts and pains me to no end.

I can't believe I let her go so easily. What was I thinking? Oh right, I wasn't. But why was I so ready to believe everything she was saying?

Oh damn emotions, how you cloud my judgment. We didn't have to say all that to each other. What were we trying to prove? That we can do without one another? That we're better apart than together? This spectacle has proved nothing else but how emotions can be a wild, untamed beast at the height of our desperation. It preys on our weaknesses and our vulnerabilities, and at just the right time (when we least expect it), it pounces, devours, and leaves no traces. We should have known better. I should have. I just didn't want her to have the upper hand. Call it a Casanova's pride.

But she is my world. That is the truth. How will we ever go back to the way things were.

What have I done?

…

_What have I done?_

_What have I done?_

_What have I done to myself?_

_What have I done to you?_

_What have I done to us?_

These were the only questions echoing through my mind long after he had hung up. The phone remains close to my ear even though the dialtone had long changed to an urgent beep, and eventually, cutting off completely.

Then, quiet. It has never been this loud. The heaviness of silence – a dull, slightly high pitched ringing – weighs in my ears like a faint throb, a pulsing sensation that just can't take a hint. It never leaves. It never leaves. It never stops getting louder.

I keep my eyes trained on the shadows, resting stagnant on the ceiling, as I lay limply in bed. The ringing in my ear begins to fade, and I hear my breathing: a most natural exchange, the short, shallow breaths of air entering my lungs and leaving through my nostrils.

Inhaling my last breath deeply, I exhale a sob.

Grief and guilt seizes my body hostage and engulfs me so suddenly, and I can't hold back my tears. I feel my ramrod straight body curl up into a fetal position, and I begin to sob violently, feeling the pain in every breath I took, every cough that wrecked my throat. I feel like I'm going to die.

I feel like I'm already dead.

My crying plateaus eventually, and I remain curled up like a little spiral seashell, shuddering with each breath. As I lay there, it suddenly occurs to me how much I'm hurting myself, by hurting him. I don't want this; I don't want to hurt him. I just want him to be aware of how he's been making me feel.

I don't want to lose him.

In a flash, I spring from my curled position and reach for my phone, which had slipped from my grasp in the midst of my earlier emotional outburst. My fingers shaking and wet from my tears, I begin to dial his number from memory, occasionally slipping on the keys.

"Please, Yi Jeong, please," I plead out loud, as I place the phone to my ear.

_Hi, you have reached So Yi Jeong, please leave a message…_

"No, no, no," I mutter frantically to myself, redialing his number, "You must pick up, Yi Jeong-ah, you must, you must…"

The same recorded greeting, cold and generic, comes through over the phone.

"No, Yi Jeong, no!" I find myself close to yelling, "No, Yi Jeong, don't let me go! YI JEONG, DON'T LET ME GO!" I dial his number again, again, and again, but every single attempt proves futile. "NO, YI JEONG! PLEASE, PLEASE! NO, PLEASE!"

I finally let the phone slip from my hand as my eyes begin to well up with tears again. I shake my head and look tearfully to the ceiling.

"Please, don't let me go."


	7. This Is How I Kill Myself, To Stay Alive

**7. This Is How I Kill Myself, To Stay Alive **

_The things we do just to stay alive  
__The things we do just to keep ourselves alive_

**City and Colour – Day Old Hate**

...

Hours have faded into days, and days into months, distancing myself from the nightmare that was our last conversation. While I've been able to replace my broken phone quite easily, parts of me are still bruised, sore at the way things have played out.

It's easy to brush the feelings aside when work calls and I am well and truly distracted, but it's on quiet, lonesome nights like the present that the feelings resurface and flood me all over again. It takes so much for me not to drown in them, and so I choose to drown myself in other ways.

Hazily eyeing the last bit of whisky in my glass, I pick it up and swirl it around, watching the liquid form a mini whirlpool in its crystal confines. It twists itself into a frenzy before slowly subsiding, easing back into its earlier calm.

_It has changed,_ I think to myself ruefully_. It will never be the same. She isn't the same._

There isn't a day that goes by in which I don't think about her. There isn't a time that my heart doesn't hurt when I think about her. My mind is a cruel recording device; latching onto the words that hurt the most, it finds the most perverse joy in replaying them over, and over, and over. It's as if I am not already hurting enough.

Is _she_ even hurting? Sometimes I wonder. Has she moved on like she claimed she has, or is she just hiding behind the same façade of strength that I'd always hidden behind? It never lasts, that façade. All it takes is for a thorn to burst in seconds what had taken years to build up.

I down the remaining whisky in one gulp, and grasp the glass tightly in my left hand. My intoxicated mind starts wandering again. _Why is she doing this? Have I kept quiet for too long? Does she not love me anymore? Has she found someone else?_

In a slim moment of clarity, I pull out a piece of paper that I carry around with me, close to my heart, in the breast pocket of my shirt. It's been crumpled too many times to count, and its creases are heavily defined from much folding and refolding. In other words, it has definitely seen much better days. This was the same piece of paper, sent out with so much hope, only to have it sent back, filled with words of indifference and hatred.

The paper is held, gingerly and reluctantly, in my right hand. _I don't have to do this._ I know the contents of her letter all too well, but still I choose to torment myself. Even though my vision is slightly blurred, I unfold the letter with one hand and re-read her words, harsh and biting. I feel a tear trickle down my cheek as I come to the part that hurts me the most:

_I have mastered the art of hardening this heart of mine, and it's all thanks to you._

"I just don't know what to do, Ga Eul-yang," I slurred to myself, as the pain in my heart intensifies, "I don't know why you hate me. I don't know if you still love me. I don't want to feel this helpless, this broken. But I don't know who you are anymore."

My grasp weakens and the glass slips from my fingers, shattering against the parquet.

The sound of breaking glass jolts me, and my eyes widen in surprise at the sudden ear-splitting sound. I instinctively put my hands to my ears even though the sound only existed for a second. I close my eyes for a moment, and take a deep breath.

As I re-open my eyes, I realize that I'd dropped the letter I was holding. Reaching downwards, I pick it up and find myself looking the other side of the letter that I've avoided re-reading for months and months. It was _my_ letter to her, my side of the story, words and lines crafted from my love and admiration for her. But she thought of them as empty and meaningless, and coming much too late.

But re-reading what I had written all those months ago made me realize again why I loved her in the first place. And why I _still_ love her. Somehow I want to believe that she is _still_ the Ga Eul that I know: the girl with the purest honesty, the most beautiful soul, someone who believes in me, and someone whom I desperately want and need in my life.

I cannot take this silence any longer, this distance, this… _angst_. This is _not_ how it's supposed to be. This is _not_ how it's supposed to end. This is _not_ supposed to end.

It will _not_ end like this.

I pick up my cell phone and begin to dial.


	8. This Is How I Won't Let You Go, Again

**8. This Is How I Won't Let You Go, Again**

The quiet follows me everywhere now. Everything else is too loud.

I drift through life like a passing breeze, coming and going but never really _there_. It just hurts to live. It tires me to keep my eyes open, to breathe, to speak. Even when I am in a crowd, my voice barely scrapes the surface, and all I long for is to be alone.

Which is why I am the happiest at closing time.

I am now always rostered to close to porridge shop, at my own insistence. We hardly get any customers past 8.30 anyway, and so I shoo the Master and Jandi out of the shop, and allow myself some peace and quiet. I appreciate their concern for me, but sometimes it does get quite suffocating. I just want to be alone, to be _quiet_.

This is the only time that I am at ease being alone, because I am busy, and I am distracted. It does a lot for my sanity.

The night was like any other, filled with routinely menial tasks. After cleaning the counters and washing up the dirty dishes, I finally start on my favourite chore. As I commence mopping up the kitchen floor, I hear the 'ding-ding' of the bell hanging over the doors, informing me of an unwelcome guest.

_Sigh._ Can't anyone get some peace around here?

Reluctant as I am to use my voice, I still have to turn this person away. I continue mopping. "Sorry, we're closed," I say, loud enough for the person to hear.

Silence.

_Doesn't this person take a hint?_ I look up from my mopping, my back to the opening of the eating area. "We're closed," I say again, my voice slightly firmer. "Please come back tomorrow."

Silence. Then footsteps. I still don't turn around.

I close my eyes and begin a countdown. This person should leave by the sixth count.

_One. Two. Thr-_

"Ga Eul."

_Silence, you are too loud. Stop talking. Four. Five. Si-_

"Ga Eul."

_Go away. Go away. Seven. Eig-_

"Ga Eul."

_It can't be. It can't be. Nine. Te-_

My countdown is interrupted when I feel myself roughly grabbed by the arm and yanked from my spot. In shock, I lose hold of the mop in my hand, and the heavy wooden handle hits a metal table, before falling to the floor with a loud 'thunk'.

But it is forgotten. Soon, I am found enveloped in an embrace so foreign, so familiar. Strong arms wrap around my limp shoulders, holding me in place against a heart that beats in double time. My nose is filled with the heady scent of musk, a mixture of torture, and of longing.

I don't struggle. I've stopped struggling too long ago.

The silence holds us together, and I allow myself to be held.

"Why did you push me away?" whispered a male voice, so tender and so soft, numbing the silence. The question bores into my ears like a drill, embedding itself deep within the folds and the curves of my feelings.

My insides begin to stir. But I will not be moved.

"Why did you push me away?" the voice continued, rising with each ending, "I was trying to reach for you, but you pushed me away. Why are you doing this, Ga Eul? Why?"

I close my eyes. My mouth remains sealed shut, but it shows signs of trembling.

"Do you know how much it hurts to have you do this to me? Do you know how much it hurts to be away from you?"

I feel him pull away, and my body aches from the loss of his warmth. But I still feel him in front of me. I instinctively fold my arms across my chest.

There is a momentary pause. My eyes are still closed. I hear the light sound of skin brushing against fabric, then the unfolding of paper. Then, he does something I'm not prepared for: he begins to read a letter to me, the same declaration of love and admiration which he'd sent to me months ago, and which I'd sent back with a scathing reply written behind it.

I have no choice but to listen as his letter comes alive before my very ears. It feels strange hearing the contents again, and the same feeling of uncertainty rises up within me, battling the emotions that try to reign supreme. He reads every point in a clear, confident voice, his expressive intonation akin to that of a stage actor's.

"…Forget?" his tone rises, as he reads the final point, clearing his throat, "I could never forget you, Ga Eul-yang. I never once have, or will. This is how I want to remember you, always: wide-eyed and wonderful, the sun in your smile, my strength forever."

I hear him fold the paper back again, and the next thing I know, I feel his hands on my shoulders. I jump a little at the touch. He holds me at a distance, his hands tightly gripping my upper arms, while my hands hang lifelessly by my sides. I imagine the marks he will leave on my arms when he lets me go.

"Ga Eul, look at me," I hear him say, trying to regain control of his voice.

_Reddened streaks on porcelain, a daring invasion of boundaries…_

"Look at me, please," his voice, less an order, now more a plead.

… _where your touch is my kryptonite, and still haunts the skin of my memories._

He pauses, and I hear him sigh. That alone makes him sound much older than he is.

_Wait, is he crying?_

"Ga Eul," his voice drops to a whisper, "Please. Don't be this way."

My eyes flutter open and before me stands a less-than-perfect looking So Yi Jeong. Disheveled hair, dark eye circles and a six o'clock shadow, with tears now streaking his ashen skin. He looked terrible.

I gasp involuntarily. _Did I do this to him?_

He gently lifts my chin and looks me square in the eyes; his own filled with a melancholic determination. "I want you to know that I meant every word in that letter. I didn't write it to sugar coat anything, to pretend that the silence between us didn't exist, because I know it did, and I'm sorry. It will never make up for how I may have made you feel.

"But every word written was written from the heart, with you on my mind."

Yi Jeong stops talking but he holds my gaze, and for the first time since knowing him, I noticed the true colour of his eyes. I had always thought it was a deep brownish-black, but the fluorescent light reflected in his almond pools of vision revealed a clear hazel.

I didn't know which revelation stunned me more. But it certainly got me talking.

"You hurt me, Yi Jeong," I find myself saying, spilling word after word from my chapped lips, "Or maybe I hurt myself thinking that you hurt me because you were so quiet, so far away. I didn't know why. I didn't know what to do. All I want, all I've ever wanted, is to be someone that means something to you, not just another of your conquests…"

His hold on me tightens at the last word, and he pulls me closer to him, our torsos dangerously close but not touching, our mouths mere inches away from each other.

"You are _not_ a conquest," he hisses, somewhat painfully, "When will you understand that! You are _not_ a conquest, because conquests would never hurt this much. This is _love_. And I love _you_. I don't know what I can do to make you believe that I love you. That I have _never_ stopped loving you, even though we're so far away. Even in our silence, you were always the closest to me. I've held you so close to my heart, that it was really painful to learn that you had let me go."

By this time, my already broken heart had fallen apart so much more. As much as I hate how his words, his emotions – _he_ – has such an effect on me, I can't help but respond. I know this isn't just a show. I can feel it, I can feel him.

My once-limp hands make their way to Yi Jeong's face, for the first time since the last time. He releases his hold on me as my hands cup his face, feeling the rough stubble on my skin. My fingertips explore the curves of his chin, his nose, his sunken cheeks, tracing the tear tracks that now line his face.

As I do so, I find myself slowly becoming overwhelmed by the realization that this isn't a dream.

"Are you really here?" I whisper.

Yi Jeong closes his eyes, and nudges into my hand. "Yes. Yes, I am."

I'm almost too scared to ask the next question. "Do… do you still love me?"

He opens his eyes, and traces a finger over my lips. "Yes," he says earnestly, "Yes, I do."

I look up to the ceiling, and take a deep breath before I ask my final question. My voice trembles with emotion. "C-can I still… love… you?"

He pulls me closer to him, and caresses my cheek gently. "You never have to ask me that question, Ga Eul-yang. I _want_ you to love me. I don't want anything else from you. I just want you to be who you've always been to me. _You._"

A tear spills over the edge of my eye, down the back of his hand.

"But… we can't ever go back to the way things were," I whisper, somewhat urgently, "We've strayed too far away."

Yi Jeong smiles, a faint smile, for the first time since he re-entered my life. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "I don't want us to go back to the way things were… I want us to start again, to start anew. I want us to have a new beginning, and if you allow me, we can start right now."

I don't even stop to think. I want to feel him near me. I just want to feel him_. _I just want _him._

I reach out and hug him. He wraps his arms around me a second time, and I feel his hand gently stroking my hair. How comforting his touch is. I hear his heartbeat against my ear again, but this time, it beats in time with mine, even and calm.

"Please, don't let me go," I whisper.

He kisses me tenderly on the forehead. "I will never."

And he holds me, as my tears begin to fall afresh.

_..._

_How safe it is to feel safe._

- City and Colour, Day Old Hate


	9. This Is How We Begin To Heal

**Epilogue: This Is How We Begin To Heal**

"Hello?"

"Hello."

"Hi."

"Hi."

"You've made it safely back to Sweden, I suppose?"

"I did, I got in about two hours ago."

"Was it a good flight?"

"It was uneventful, until when the first officer announced that we'd landed in Seoul, instead of Stockholm. That certainly got all the other passengers up in arms."

"Oh, that's terrible. How could he make such a mistake?"

"Well, it wasn't a big deal. We all knew where we were anyway. He laughed it off in the end, and so did we. It wasn't as if we'd flown 15 hours for nothing."

"Of course not, but…"

"Maybe he just really wanted to be home. He's Korean too, you see."

_A beat._ "Do you want to be home?"

"I'd want to be anywhere you are."

_A beat._ "I miss you."

"I miss you too."

"And… maybe I never really got to say this while you were here, but thank you."

"What for?"

"For not giving up on me, even when I wanted to give up on you."

"Silly girl. That's all in the past now."

"It's still a part of us. We probably won't talk about it as much, and I guess we may even look back at this and laugh about how silly we were during those few months… but it's a part of us, whether we like it or not."

"Us, we… I like the pronouns you're using. They really turn me on."

"_Yah!_ Don't get cheeky on me here, mister."

"What? I'm just being honest here. That's what you've always told me to do…"

"Don't go turning my words around on me now…"

"Okay, okay. I'll stop teasing. What are you up to? "

"Not much else besides getting ready to sleep. I was just thinking about you, actually. And then…"

"…I called."

"Exactly."

"We're getting better at this, you know."

"It's a good start."

"It is."

_Silence._

"Ga Eul-yang?"

"Hmmm?"

"You'll wait for me, won't you? Like, _really_ wait for me?"

"Of course I will, silly. What makes you think I wouldn't?"

"Well, when I saw Woo Bin in Seoul, he kinda told me about that secret admirer who was on your tail for a while…"

"… And you think he's going to scoop me up and whisk me away into the sunset for a happily ever after."

_Silence._

"_Sunbae_?"

"Hmmm?"

"No ever after would be a happy one if you aren't in it."

_A beat._ "You're becoming quite the talker, aren't you?"

"I do learn from the best."

"Just don't make it a habit. I like you just the way you are."

_A beat. _"I can't wait for you to be home."

"Me neither. And my promise still stands, you know. That… you'll be the first one I see when I return for good. This time was… well, I guess you can call it a dry run."

"Some 'dry' run it was, macho man. You cried."

"Hey tough girl, you weren't exactly a desert either."

"That's because I came alive again. What's your excuse?"

"I love you."

_Silence._

"I love you and I won't let you go, Ga Eul-yang."

"Would you at least let me go to bed?"

"I guess I could do that. Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Call me."

"Sweet dreams, Ga Eul-yang."

"I love you too, Yi Jeong _sunbae_."


End file.
